


A Matter Of Trust (And Time)

by chasing_the_sterek



Series: Inktober 2017 [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, John Has Trust Issues, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Mild Angst, PTSD John, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Slice of Life, Trust, absolvement of trust issues, and the answer is it doesn't matter because you can see it either way, gay or not gay that is the question, sleeping in cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 18:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_the_sterek/pseuds/chasing_the_sterek
Summary: "Bugger'ff.""You really are fantastic company when you first wake up," Sherlock remarks.///John doesn't sleep in cars. He never has - except...





	A Matter Of Trust (And Time)

**Author's Note:**

> I GUESS YOU COULD SAY I HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS ALL YEAR
> 
> HAHAHAHAHAHA I'm so behind holy shit
> 
> Anyway I'm just going to stop pretending these were written in October like they were supposed to be
> 
> Not-today's prompt was "flash/tired"

_A flash of light, an explosion, it must be, an IED, though there's no noise but one desperate, dying cry of -_

_"Watson!"_

John jolts awake. 

Sherlock slides his eyes over to him from the driver's seat and then back again. "Light from setting sun flashing off of a cottage window directly into your eyes. Visual input to nightmare, rapid and concentrated conclusion; explosion, no? Interesting." A pause. "Oh - want to talk about it?" 

"Seems you already know the most of it," John snorts. His voice is groggy, but firm. "Also, no. Bugger'ff." 

"You really are fantastic company when you first wake up," Sherlock remarks. 

John is sorely tempted to repeat himself, or maybe just change it up a little and flip him the bird, but a yawn cuts across anything he might have said. He tries to stretch and ends up bumping into about fifteen different things. 

"What?" he croaks. 

Sherlock glances over at him again, for longer this time, and then immediately looks as though he's having to try very hard not to laugh. John abruptly discovers that not only has he just held part of a conversation with spectacular bedhead (how does that even _happen_ in cars?), his jumper has also hitched itself over his hands and listed sideways around the neck, leaving him with red knit-imprints on one half of his throat. 

In short: he probably looks either absolutely ridiculous, or absolutely adorable. 

Given the laughter, John guesses it's not the latter. "Shut up," he grumbles, rubbing his eyes. "Don't mock me, I just -" 

It hits him again. Belatedly. 

". . . woke up." John finishes faintly. "Bugger me." 

Sherlock is watching him between token glances at the road ahead. He seems surprisingly unbothered by the way the conversation is going around in circles. "What? Why?" 

"I fell asleep." 

"A firm grasp of the obvious," Sherlock commends. Then his eyes narrow a little, and the token glances start to tail off. "You don't usually sleep in cars? Ah, of course - Afghanistan, duties and constant guard, moving vehicle, trained out of it as children to keep you sleeping through the night -" 

"Watch the road." 

"- and you nor Harry have ever managed it since, not that she has the trust issues you do, so she's probably been able to once or twice, whereas you -" 

_"Holy shit, watch the road!"_

John dives for the wheel, but Sherlock has already turned back and bats him away. "I'm doing it, I'm doing it, _honestly."_

"No, you weren't, you utter liar. You were telling me why I can't sleep in cars, which I already know." He glares Sherlock's attempt to speak into submission. "You're going to kill us entirely unnecessarily." 

"I can watch the road and deduce at the same time," Sherlock protests. "Look, I'm doing it right now." 

John still has a hand on the wheel. He's doing most of the driving. 

Letting go, he makes sure to stare pointedly as they barrel right into a pothole. 

"Sure looks like it," he agrees. 

"How very unnecessary of you." 

John lets Sherlock reclaim the wheel, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Sherlock, I'm never going to sleep if I think you're going to be spending the entire time bouncing from pothole to pothole." 

Sherlock suddenly gets his _I've-just-solved-the-case_ look, and then looks very flattered. 

"Are you blushing?" John asks, delighted and incredulous in equal measure. 

"No," Sherlock lies. His ears have gone completely red now. "Um. I'm glad you trust me so implicitly, John." 

John turns his head to look out of the window, elbow on the sill. He's smiling behind the cover of his hand. 

"You're welcome," he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I immediately think of this? Who knows. But I like it, for some reason, and so it stays


End file.
